Posts members are enjoying at community members' sites

if i had to boil it down to 1 thing it would be this, you know what you need to do. the woman took all these questions from people and they were basically all 'i think i should ___' and the woman would smile and not answer just go on to the next question.at the end of this, about 30 people, she said 'you are asking me what to do and asking for my permission when it sounds like each of you has an idea of 1 thing you could do.' the point was that you do what you can. it might just be a letter to a senator or it might be taking part in a protest or it might be boycotting those who profit from the occupation but we all know something we can do, we just aren't doing it.

Cindy e-mails "Mike is doing a great job! I hope everyone's paying attention to his site."Here's Michael on recruiters:

This is scary stuff. And so is what Caeser e-mailed me about which is nonstop calls from recruiters. The calls come in all the time and he and his folks and sister can be sitting down at dinner time to eat and there's the phone ringing.Nothing gets them to stop callling and you can't block them even if you are on 1 of those lists so you don't get calls from telemarketers.Caesar's cussed them out, his father's cussed them out but they keep calling all the time.Caesar asked me how desperate do I think the military is? I think they are pretty desperate, Ceasar, because we are at war and no one wants to sign up for the Bully Boy's Non Excellent Adventure. And get this, most of the time they can't even get his name right. They are just like telemarketers. Caesar is Latino and his name is pronounced "say-zar" but he writes that they call up and ask for "see-ser" like he's a "salad."

Cindy also wonders why he's "Mike" to his friends (as is noted on Mikey Likes It!) and I've been using "Michael?" I've been using "Michael" because the community already has a "Mike."I can use "Blogger Mike" or something else but we've had a "Mike" for some time.

As I told you Saturday, Friday was not a good night for Thomas Friedman. We went to another party at Jess's upstairs. Thomas Friedman insisted upon tagging along. I had told Ty that I wouldn't be able to dress up for his & Jess's party but Ty said that was fine and that they liked my costumes already. I did not have the heart, or maybe it was lack of pride, to tell Ty that they were not costumes but that these sheets were all Thomas Friedman would allow me to have to wear. Did I mention that the exclusive Goodwill that Thomas Friedman takes me to is not, in fact exclusive and that all the merchandise is second hand?So with that in mind, I didn't discourage Thomas Friedman from joining me at the party."Betinna," he asked standing in front of his closet in only his shorty robe, "what should I wear?""Whatever you want, baby," I told him trying to surpress a giggle.We get there and he's shocked to find everyone, male and female, sporting a mustache.See, it was a theme party. And the theme was Thomas Friedman.

The bench was Dee Dee's least favorite piece of gymn equipment to be on. She was always afraid that she would suddenly lose control of the barbell and it would crash down on her injuring her, or worse yet, killing her. Or even worse, disfiguring her ample bosom. It made no sense, this fear, even she knew it, but the thought always crossed her mind when she was doing reps. Maybe one of the weights wasn't secured. Maybe her muscles would be exhausted.She had a lot of similar fears. Like when she used the microwave on the maid's day off. Often she'd picture the low fat, all vegan TV dinner exploding with such a force that it would knock the door right off the microwave. But even with this fear, she couldn't help peering inside, watching the dinner heat up. Or when she was applying a fresh stick of lipstick or a new compact of powder, she'd worry that somehow in the factory a drop of battery acid had been smuggled in. As she smeared, for instance, the lipstick across her lips, she'd picture the skin bubbling up, blackening, and then falling right off her face as she howled in pain. Still she applied her lipstick. Still she looked through the glass door to see inside the microwave. Still she utilized the bench for presses. Maybe she was drawn to danger?

Shirley's favorite is the "Wally Lamb piece which does so perfectly capture the 'I can please everyone!' Bill Keller."

He hated those who pried.Occasionally he would give away things to trusted ones, little facts and details of his choosing. He never regretted shared moments with the few that he did actually trust; however, more often than not, he would end up being forced to explain things to people he felt little attachment to. People who would catch him in a weak moment and, in the supposed name of closeness and friendship, demand of him details that he did not want to freely give. Pressed and put off, he would give of himself as he quietly detached and edged away. The closeness those people claimed to be seeking would never come because he hated being forced or tricked into self-exposure. He hated those who pried. He hated being forced to explain in a sentence or two something so complex that in a lifetime he still hadn't come to conclusions on himself. He had one stood before a mirror and said, "I am looking in the mirror and I see nothing."He was not a chameleon. A part of himself was never truly lost. There existed a thread, albeit a fine, weak one, of continuity that linked all the different personas he expressed.He didn't change, he just expressed different parts of himself. It wasn't that he wasn't genuine, it was that he wasn't one person, he was many people. Instinctively he knew what to give someone to win them over. Instinctively he knew which qualities to parade and which qualities to lock away. He was an artist when it came to relationships and like the impressionists and the post-impressionists before him, he utilized the technique of chairo scuro -- he emphasized either the brights or the darks depending on what he was trying to get across to his audience.

About Me

We do not open attachments. Stop e-mailing them. Threats and abusive e-mail are not covered by any privacy rule. This isn't to the reporters at a certain paper (keep 'em coming, they are funny). This is for the likes of failed comics who think they can threaten via e-mails and then whine, "E-mails are supposed to be private." E-mail threats will be turned over to the FBI and they will be noted here with the names and anything I feel like quoting.
This also applies to anyone writing to complain about a friend of mine. That's not why the public account exists.